Well, it's been almost two weeks since we saw Mathpro. I'm going to stop checking this board but if it picks up I would still be interested. Please PM me if that happens.
:-(
Search Posts
Hey GM. Any update?
I've got my fingers crossed we'll start moving forward today or tomorrow. I think mathpros last exam was yesterday. Looking forward to this and the cast of characters we've assembled.
Having said farewell, Fyn turns (one boot grinding the nightshirt into the floor) and walks out of the Hagfish. Now...for a bath. And walks off down the street towards the Pixie's Kitten, Sandpoint's own little house of debauchery. wall of text; just fleshing out the character:
At this relatively early hour of the day, business is slow at the Kitten but a bouncer is still manning the door. Fyn approaches with a smile, holy symbol displayed over his chest, and is shown in to see the madam. In exchange for a bath plus room and board, he offers to give the Sacrament of the Unquenchable Fire to one of the madam's clients. After some haggling, they agree on two clients but someone will see to cleaning and oiling Fyn's leathers. (Business is slow at the moment, so there are already too many idle hands.) The bath takes miles off Fyn's body, brightening his mood as he washes away the smell of week's worth of sweat and dust baked in the late summer heat. His first supplicant claims to be a noblewoman from Magnimar, recently widowed, in town for the festival. Fyn smiles but doesn't believe a word of it. He remembers her from when he lived in Sandpoint. A merchant's wife, modestly successful...the jewels probably fake. It doesn't matter. There is no ritual of the confessional in the Calistrian faith. If one seeks to unburden ones conscience, you pray to Iomedae. Calistrian sacraments from the Book of Joy are meant to bring one closer to the truest and purest of emotions, lust, and to experience a spark of divinity in the gods' gift of life. Honesty is irrelevant. When finished, the madam tells him there are no more clients needing his services at the moment, so he is free for the time being. He asks if there are any courtesans in need of healing or medical aid, but the madam assures him they are all in fine health, though she appreciates the gesture. So, mind and body refreshed, the priest of the Savored Sting inquires about what became of the late unpleasantness, particularly the burning of the old church. Though he doesn't say so explicitly, the madam knows he refers to the deaths of his father and sister. No, nothing. So tragic. The news is frustrating. In a place like this, lips are loose and a madam's ears are sharp. The priest smiles anyway. Leaving his backpack and cloak but strapping on his weapons and leather armor (with a tip and a kiss for the girl who cleaned it), Fyn steps back onto the streets of Sandpoint. Perhaps I should visit pop-pop. But there will be the fuss and bustle about that damnable "cathedral"... hardly peaceful. Unsure of his next step, Fyn puts his path in the hands of Calistria and begins to wander the streets of his old home.
Simpsons did it. (It's all derivative. This is when the empire declines.)
Barb/Trinam-- so, the other night, I was rolling up a barbar for an Iron Gods campaign and I do a search for an archetype and guide, and this guide comes up with someone typing in all caps and with funny phrases like "THIS AM GOOD BARBARIAN YOU AM TELL FROM +5 CLOAK OF RESISTANCE AND NO SHIRT". I LOLd. Fun guide. Had no idea we had someone "published" in the group. :-) Of course, this means, Barbarian A Barbarian better be flawless. ;-)
I'm looking forward to it, too! (Hopefully I won't run out of healing when the bard gets hit with a lightning bolt.) :-o ;-)
Fyn slowly picks the soiled nightshirt off his face, trying to touch it as little as possible before dropping it on the floor. His head slowly swivels to watch the "professor" galavant across the bar in the buff, and remembers where he was heading before this...distraction. "No good deed...," he murmurs under his breath. Well, at least I know he's not physically ill. But the only thing he's studied for some time is the bottom of a tankard. More of a jester than a professor. He stands up, releasing his grip of a morningstar he hadn't realized he was holding -- He's an oaf and a drunkard. Let it go. It's not personal -- and nods with a chagrined smile at Lemnis, Speckle and Barbarian. "It would seem the esteemed 'scholar' is in fine health. Master Lemnis, Speckle, sir," he directs the last to Barbarian, still unclear as to what the man's name is, "If you'll excuse me, I have an extra layer of stink to wash off in addition to a need for lodging. I hope you all enjoy the festival."
Sounds good. When I get a break from work, I'll shoot you a PM. A few ideas running through my head.
If Krios was in town during the Chopper murders, I wonder if he and Fyn would know (or know of) each other. Fyn grew up in town but left after the church burned down. With 1,000+ people, could be easy to miss each other, but not exactly a lot of non-humans either so they might stand out. Tots up to you.
Hey, Warforged. Sorry to hear about the trouble. Hope you bounce back soon. LOLs @ Uli and Barb--- I'm thinking I'm going to need to come up with a dramatic reaction to the bumblebee thing. Likely involving a morningstar and a bad guy's head. [-;
"Oh, you misunderstand me, sir. I'm not judging your vice, merely dubious of the veracity of your tale. You'll forgive me if the surroundings and the condition in which we found you leads me to an incorrect conclusion. You, uh, seem a bit underdressed for an accomplished professor." He glances at Lemnis with the slightest of shrugs, then inspects Uli one more time.
OOC to Uli:
As to the "rude health", is Uli actually injured or diseased, or just drunk? Earlier successful first aid check. Not sure what to do with that sense motive check...likely just take back his initial assumption but remain uncertain as to the truth
DC 6 Sense Motive on Fyn: Fyn's being mostly honest there but not entirely. He adores alcohol but draws the line between a loosening of inhibitions and turning into a limp noodle. He thinks the "professor" should be more embarrassed by his condition, but doesn't think it some great moral failing.
Rock it mathpro. Then drink a lot to blast those neural connections you just built.
Mathpro's exam is today so hopefully you and the Druid will get approved soon. I love seeing people make use of combat maneuvers. For once, I don't really have a long term plan in mind, but I'm leaning towards a mix of buffs for you guys and enchantments for enemies. Probably make up my mind after seeing how the group is working. I don't see Fyn being much of a warrior priest; you guys seem to have that covered. (Was someone also going to be rolling up a monk, or did that person decide on a different class?) I feel like there was a 7th PC in the wings.
Fyn listens to this with a dubious but patient expression on his face. "Mmm hmm. It's a fascinating tale, professor, though I'm glad for the amusement. What did you call it, "artefactory extraction" sounds like a dolled up phrase for grave robbing." He sighs, actually somewhat relieved, knowing he can leave the man here. Sad. He's clearly very bright. What a waste. Aila might have liked him sober. Always said the smart ones made for better pillow talk. She never did know how to properly use a pillow. "Makes no matter, all an amusing yarn that I'm sure gets you many drinks. But judging by your recent merger with the floor, I'm thinking it's time we switch you to a nice, strong cup of coffee. In the meantime, are you feeling well enough? Ringing in your ears? Trouble keeping your eyes open? Delusions of grandeur?" Fyn casts a glance at Barbarian to make sure a slaughter hasn't broken out and tries to catch the attention of a serving wench for some coffee.
Fyn seems somewhat taken aback by Uli's sudden animation. "Professor?" "Scholar?" Dear Mistress, he's moonstruck as well as homeless. He briefly looks over his shoulder and under his seat for a wasp or other insect prepared to sting him, signs of the Goddess's displeasure. Nothing. And, the wizard seems to take this at face value. Maybe I'll just intercept any drink headed this way. I'm just parched. Surely, that's it. This isn't my problem any longer. He's a Caydenite. This is their lot. He looks for the waitress...and then the talking thrush appears. Fyn's nigh-angelic features take on an utterly bewildered expression. "Um... hi! Uh, Speckle. I'm, uh... um... Fyn." He looks at the drunkard, the thrush, the drunkard, the wizard... and shakes his head. I swear, my Mistress, I'll toss whoever -- whatever -- you demand of me this evening. Just let this all start making sense soon. And then he looks back at "Professor" Uri, the eminent "scholar" (of the tankard), and waits for elucidation.
Fyn smiles gratefully for the coffee. "Again, very kind of you." He takes a strong drink from the cup, ignoring any bitterness of the brew, truly thankful just for the ritual. "As for Sandpoint, I, uh..." What do I think of "Sandpoint"? Once it was home. Now? And how much to tell this stranger? He takes another sip of coffee to collect his thoughts, then says, "Truthfully, I left five years ago to learn the ways of the Savored Sting. Today, I'm a very junior priest in the faith of Calistria. I'm afraid what I know of home may be somewhat...out of date. The people are good and kindly, the merchants fair, the brew can be better...and worse...than is found here. They prefer the faith of Desna, thus the festival, but are open to others. My father saw to... six shrines at the old church, actually. I'd expect they've the same number at this Cathedral they've built. The folk who live here mostly stick to what they know. Not much appetite to solve the greater mysteries or...well." His voice trails off briefly before he finishes, "As I said, Sandpoint isn't without crime. When I lived here, the constabulary was incapable of solving the more serious crimes. Thus my..." He cuts himself off, uncomfortable with something, then takes another sip of the coffee and shifts the conversation. "Ah, I'm prattling on so rudely. Thassilonian, you say? That's ancient cultures or something, correct? What is there of it left to be found here? Sandpoint's been settled for decades."
Fyn does his best to gently guide Uli's body to a booth or, failing that, a chair and table. He readies a threat to curse anyone with leprosy of the crotch should they fail to make room, but it fortunately proves unnecessary.
In Elven:
"Since I was born, or near enough." A passing reference to his aasimar heritage. "I am known as Fyn, Master Lemnis. It is an honor. May the Lady in the Room give you many blessings for your kindness with this poor soul." Fyn's Elven is fluent but, for those who could make the distinction, it clearly carries the accent and dialect of city dwelling elves from this region of Golarion. With Uli at least initially secured against any further (immediate) self-injury, Fyn pauses to more closely examine Lemnis...and fails to notice even the most obvious indicia of his profession. The coffee arrives shortly and Fyn settles in to wait for the inebriated human to wake up while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the barbarian. This is not how I saw this day going. Mistress, guide me, for I am too blind to see how this helps me do your bidding.
in Elven:
"I would be grateful for your company, Master Lemnis, but I don't wish to keep you. I'll wait here until this one wakes. Judging by his clothes, I fear he may be homeless and with the festival, well...Sandpoint is a lovely town but not without crime. I can't leave him until he's safe."
Yeah, I guess I should have said folks are very welcome to read mine (if they need a cure for insomnia). I just didn't want to cross any boundaries. If Mathpro says otherwise, that's fine, too. :-)
Fyn takes a deep breath of the (relatively) fresh air in the street, then enters behind Barbarian. Though intending to head straight to the bar and preemptively smooth over any problems the barbarian's rough ways might create, he immediately notices the passed out drunkard and the elf moving to assist the poor lout. Yeah...this is definitely the Hagfish. I should have just kept going to the Pixie's Kitten. Less vomit, better drink, fewer clothes. Rather than turning on his heels and heading straight to the local brothel, the better part of his nature wins out and he steps up behind the elf, lending assistance in lifting the drunken sot off the floor while doing a quick inventory of his condition. While offering to help with Uli, Fyn says to Lemnis:
In Elven:
"Apologies, Fair One, but may I be of assistance? I don't mean to intrude if you're tending to a...friend." If his quick inspection reveals the man has merely passed out from alcohol with a minor bump to the head, Fyn is as willing to render aid as he is to leave. If it's more serious than that, Fyn will likely insist (politely) on helping.
Hey all. A question and a request. Question: are there any objections to reading spoilers text, whether in play or in a character's profile background? I just saw in the general discussion a thread on this and noticed there were a range of opinions. I have to GM all my F2F games so I think I'm pretty good at separating what I know in character from meta game knowledge, but I also want to respect any boundaries folks want. Request: I've been playing F2F exclusively the last seven or so years. Before that, my "text-based" experience was in old school MUSHes and MUDs, where interaction was live and constant. So, this is a new format for me. (To wit, I'm trying to refrain from over-posting or writing long walls of text.) I've read the guides and a few gameplay threads (for inspiration in my F2F games), but if you have any suggestions of feedback on what I could do better, please let me know.
After a walk along one of Sandpoint's busier streets leading down the hill and towards the docks, dodging street vendors, townsfolk and visitors for the festival, the three arrive outside the Hagfish, the smell of ale, sweat and fish creating a fierce melange of odors. Esmond suddenly remembers he never told his wife where he would be and with her expecting....he and Fyn say hurried goodbyes, exchange another hug, and Fyn promises to check in with Esmond at his shop soon. "Well, Master Barbarian, this is the Hagfish. I might as well poke my head in, too, for old time's sake." Mostly, Fyn wants to check-in with a bartender and make sure they know this "barbarian" is of the gentle and dim-witted sort, just a bit LOUD. He holds open the door as a host would for a guest, a twinge of affection for his hometown stirring again, it's warts and all.
For a moment, Fyn is unsure whether he's being mocked (a woman who hurt Fyn!? Inconceivable!), then chooses to accept the more innocent explanation...and lies. "Yes, indeed, the sting of a woman's scorn burns deep, doesn't it? Maddening creatures. Come, friend, let's get you to the Hagfish and find some ale to wet your pipes." Unless pressed, Fyn continues the rest of the walk to the tavern in relative silence, realizing he can't seem to conceal his feelings at the moment. He keeps a smile on his face and listens to his friend talk his new family, and assures the young blacksmith that should his services be in need, Fyn will seek him out.
ooc: just trying to move this along to get us to the Hagfish. Successful sense motive on the bluff would likely just indicate it has nothing to do with a woman, but he's not going to be forthcoming about it. If pressed by Esmond, he shrugs it off and says its between Fyn and his faith. Fyn doesn't want anyone he cares about brought into this
Gah! Crappy rolls. Going to have to put a point in bluff, I see.
LOL @ Barb A Barb
Mathpro, in light of your schedule, I'm wondering if it makes sense to not try to cram in a full convo with Esmond, or maybe handle it retroactively after your done with exams. To "get the gang together" without needing your full attention, I'm thinking Fyn will make plans to meet Edmond later, follow Barbarian in to the Hagfish intending just to make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble, then head to the Pixie's Kitten to get a bed and maybe some gossip from the madam.
Fyn stops so suddenly he practically trips, let's out a whoop of joy and hugs his friend. "By Her grace, that's wonderful! Congratulations!" Stepping back but leaving a hand on his friend's shoulder, Fyn is beaming, the glow of his amber eyes bright and warm. "You'll be a great father. I got you into so much trouble when we were kids, you'll know everything there is to watch out for!" Fyn laughs and winks. "And marriage, too. You've a blessed life, Esmond. I'm glad for it. You'll have to introduce me to the lucky lady." Patting his hirsute friend on the back as they resume the walk to the Hagfish, Fyn switches back to the "other topic". "Pop-pop would be honored if you named a son after him, I'm certain. He always wished a little more of you would have rubbed off on me, I think. As for being on my feet, the church gives me what I need and in the faith I have found purpose. I'm sure pop-pop would have preferred that I follow him in the worship of Desna, but the Calistrian faith isn't just about fun and frolic." A dark expression flickers across Fyn's feature, his eyes turning dark, before he tries to cover it with a grin. "But there is a lot fun, too! I'm afraid I'm just not the marrying type."
Fyn looks at the barbarian's muscle-clad body and enormous sword, considers the equally muscle-filled skull, and briefly wonders if it wouldn't be better to steer him to something with less potential to result in alcohol fueled violence, perhaps a romp at the Pixie's Kitten. Um, no. Not until I've met the madam, first... Besides, poor rube might not have a coin to his name. "The Hagfish it is, it'll be perfect for you. Maybe they'll even introduce you to Nora," Fyn says with a beaming smile, remembering the tavern's foul namesake. "If you don't mind company, we'll show you the way. Come, Esmond, let's catch up. I need to find myself some lodging near the docks and make other...arrangements, but I want to hear all about the last five years. What became of the great unpleasantness? Was anything learned about...what happened?" Should I tell him I'm back in town because of the fire? To avenge pop-pop? No, he's too loyal. He'll want to help and only get in the way.
"Bee guy? I... oh, yes. Ha ha, yes, true. Thank you for understanding." Struck by the barbarian's...strident manner of speech, the look on Fyn's face is one either of wry bemusement or kindness. He hopes it appears as the latter. It's nice that he understands the common trade language, even if he speaks it so poorly. Goddess only knows where this poor fellow is from. Aloud, he says, "As for drink, when I lived here the Hagfish was quite popular with some great drinking games. Not very clean, I suppose, and, now that I think about it, you got money if you were able to keep the ale down..." He stops to think, suddenly realizing this actually doesn't sound very appealing at all. "Uh, Esmond?" OOC @ Barb:
Does Fyn wear the usual yellow and black? I almost said FAVORITE BEE, but I didn't know so I should ask for future reference. LOL. Yes, but he's kind of inverted the colors, so black is primary and yellow is secondary. (Figure pretty close to the avatar image.) Black cloak with yellow hems and embroidery, but slits at the shoulder so his arms are freely at his side. Assuming it wouldn't cost extra, his leather armor is probably stained black, too.
Fyn let the words to the charm spell he'd been preparing slip away along with a sigh of relief. Thank you, My Lady. "Ah, yes, I'm so sorry. Esmond, I fear you might have knocked this good warrior over in your enthusiasm." To Barbarian, "I beg your forgiveness. It's been five winters since I've seen my friend here. He's just happy to see me return...home." There is a brief pause before the last word. Damn it, Fyn, get it together. Whatever the barbarian with the blue-painted face might have thought upon seeing the holy symbol, Fyn pretends not to notice. It wouldn't be the first time someone thought the faith was merely about the holy communion of flesh, and Fyn had been taught to let it remain so. It let Her faithful go about their more important business without the suspicion a black-hooded Norgorberite might attract.
As Fyn listens to his friend, he keeps one eye on the barbarian, knowing better than most how even a small slight can escalate into violence.
As when he'd left five years ago, Fyn's clothes were dusty from travel on the road between here and Riddleport. And the memories are back, too. Damn. Pausing in front of the cathedral, his own holy symbol partially hidden beneath the folds of his black and yellow robe, Fyn couldn't help but scowl at the looming structure. You can't go home again... Though I wasn't expecting a homecoming, was I? Forcing a smile at one of the priests, Fyn tipped his head in a slight bow then turned and began making his way to the Pixie's Kitten. As a priest of Calistria, he could likely get a bed there for the night... and perhaps some information. And if I have to work for it, that wouldn't be so bad, either. He sniffed. Well, as long as I can get a bath. "Fyn!," Esmond's voice boomed through the crowd's bustle and brought Fyn's mind back to the present. His smile, once forced, now genuine as his old friend lifted him from the street in a characteristic bear hug. "Esmond! Alright, alright!" Fyn laughed, or would have if he'd any air left in his lungs. "It's been too long. I'm...", Fyn stopped, a rueful but warm look on his face. "It's good to see you."
So, my background is done (subject to GM Mathpro's approval), but after reading a bit I think I'm going to dump the archetype, which will mean tweaking my stats a bit. Ah well. Just when I had everything formatted. Likely switching to just a straight-up cleric (sans archetype). Considering dumping the channel energy but with this many bodies in melee I'm thinking it might actually be more viable than usual. Anyway... open to thoughts/suggestions, but that's the direction I'm leaning.
I can dabble in Diplomacy (currently +8) and Bluff so I can do it if necessary, but I have so few skill points per level it's not where I would prefer to invest them long-term.
@ Corsario: So far, we've got:
So, we've likely got two dedicated fighters, two dedicated casters, a skill monkey... That leaves a lot of flexibility for you to do whatever is fun for you, I would think. I've got a soft spot for summoners, personally, but I think Fyn would love to have a (dour?) dwarven paladin in the party. ("Oh, come on, darling... it's not like I stabbed him in the back with a dagger after charming him... it was just a little crossbow bolt. Besides, he'd have shook the charm eventually. This way, he thinks he died among friends. I did him a favor, really.")
This is SnowHeart. Dotting my Alias here. (Everything is a work in progress, but I'll aim to have it done by Monday.) GM_Mathpro, your suggestion sounds great! I'll definitely work that into the background. |